


Scars on scars

by NovemberWings



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Almost Rape, Angst, Bad Touch Trio, Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pirate England (Hetalia), Pirate Spain (Hetalia), Scars, Serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings
Summary: During their pirate days The Bad Touch Trio capture a certain English pirate and find something that they never would have expected.
(This is a very serious fanfiction, no fluff. Please check the tags. There is a lot of dark themes. This is a reupload which was taken down because of comments. Please make sure you check tags, and if there are any tags that need adding please tell me. Don't like, don't read)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very serious fanfiction, no fluff. Please check the tags. There is a lot of dark themes. This is a reupload which was taken down because of comments. Please make sure you check tags, and if there are any tags that need adding please tell me. Don't like, don't read

Three glasses chinked together. One filled with the best beer around. One filled with finest wine gold could buy. And the last filled with cocktail of beer and cloudy lemonade measured perfectly for utter pleasure on the tongue.

Each glass was bought up to a different pair of lips. One pair of lips that uttered the most creative curse words know to the human race in an angry language. One mouth spoke the language of love so eloquently it could make any woman’s, or man’s, heart flutter, melting them into a warm dripping chocolate, bringing them to their knees. And the last could twist words in any language into lies made of silver that even those who also possessed a silver tongue believed his words. Every mouth was talented and together they were victorious and in their glasses they drank their own kind liquid victory.

It was only suitable, however, they had him. They finally had him. After months of searching and looking for him they had him.

Francis took another sip of his wine before lowering the glass from his mouth and raising it in the air.  
“Cheers, mon chers!” He shouted, glee filling his voice. “We have succeeded. The Bad Touch Trio wins once again.”  
“Ja, cheers.” Gilbert brought his glass of beer up to meet Francis’ once more creating another ‘chink’ and Antonio’s glass followed. Each had a smile on his own lips. Proud and pleased as punch.

“Well then, amigos,” Antonio spoke addressing his friends, “what shall we do now then?” He asked a mischievous smile adorning his lips.

All at once their attention fell onto their captive. He knelt on the ships floor. His fancy decorative coat had been ripped of him as soon as he come onto the boat, with his own sword nether the less, leaving him now in only his thin white shirt and black trousers. He had been checked for knives and other weapons- even his boots, along with his feathered hat had been removed.

He was blind folded with a black cloth tied tightly around his eyes, with his hands tied behind his back with coarse ropes, which rubbed at his wrists, and his ankles and knees had been tied together with the same coarse rope. His mouth had black cloth slipped in between his lips and tied behind his head, where blonde hairs lay, leaving him incapable to utter a word. A word to protest against his treatment or any words in face. Due to the unwanted cloth forced into his mouth a drop of saliva had rolled down his chin and the fact that his hands being tied meant he couldn’t wipe it away.

It made for quite a delicious sight to the three other pirates in the cabin.

Even though Arthur was vulnerable in his current situation his pride would not allow himself to look or act defeated quite yet. He sat tall on his knees with his back straight, facing where the noises elicited from his captors was coming from.

Francis was the first to make a move, grinning at his friends. He walked over to the nation kneeling on the floor, his heels clicking on the wood as he did so. When he reached Arthur Arthur sensed his presence and looked up as if he would be looking at his face if he had not been blind folded.  
“Well, Arthur, it’s you and me again- like when we were younger. Do you remember?” His condescending voice felt like he had just poured a bucket of ice water all over Arthur and Arthur suppressed a shiver at Francis’ words, horror lined his veins. His childhood was not a happy one and memories were preferred left untouched. Either way Francis could read him and a sadistic grin flashed across his face and he knealt down. He heard his two friends making their way over to his side.

Francis’ reached his hand forward and caught Arthur’s chin in a gentle grip and swiped his thumb wiping away the dripping saliva. Arthur pulled back violently, not because he was shocked or scared but because he did not want Francis touching him.

Suddenly, Francis reached forward and grabbed Arthur’s chin once more, harsher, in a steel grip that made Arthur’s jaw ache and white areas to blossom around Francis’ finger tips. He pulled Arthur’s face close to his so their noses were touching.  
“Now now Arthur, I wouldn’t misbehave in the current situation you’re in. All helpless with your hands tied and your cutlass removed. Blindfolded and gagged, why you’re practically a baby… Helpless and alone.” Behind the gag Arthur ground his teeth wanting to shout profanities at the French man for his pompous words. Without any warning a German voice joined the taunting;  
“And it would be a shame to have to punish a helpless baby, but discipline is important- wouldn’t you agree Antonio?” Sarcasm dripped off his words like the juices from the forbidden fruit off Eve’s lips.  
“Si, I agree. Discipline is important for the growth of any young child or nation, and considering Arthur is the youngest here it is our duty to discipline him, we wouldn’t be being fair to him if we didn’t. We have to raise him right.”

England’s heart felt like it froze at the other countries words. He couldn’t do anything to stop this. Prussia chuckled a little, it scared him-even though he would never admit it- a chuckle was never good.

England felt fingers against his temple and the cloth was pulled away from his eyes and he squinted as the light hit him. It was even worse for the eye that usually had an eye patch on, he could barely open that eye it was so accustomed to the darkness.

From what he could see Francis was kneeling in front of him and Antonio was to Francis’ right with Gilbert to his left. Antonio was also kneeling but Gilbert was standing.  
“He looks weird without his eye patch on, doesn’t he?” Antonio smirked.  
“He does look a little strange…” Gilbert said as he walked away from the group and to the back of the cabin, but Arthur couldn’t see what he was doing past France, but what Francis did next distracted him from trying to see what Gilbert was doing. He leant forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Arthur pulled back so violently he fell backwards causing Francis and Antonio to laugh at him. His face had gone bright red.

He’d never kissed anyone and he wanted Francis’ away from him before he went any further.  
“Look!” Antonio practically shouted, “He’s gone red like a tomato!” He spoke through his laughter.  
Gilbert reappeared from behind Francis’ and Antonio’s heads, but now he was holding a sword.  
“What did you do? His face is so fucking red, Francis I think that’s the same colour as your wine isn’t it?” Gilbert said in a rhetorical question, he reached over and picked up the almost empty glass of red wine and threw it in Arthur’s face. The wine went in his eyes making them sting a little, and dripped down his neck and onto his shirt. “Oh, Arthur. I’m so so sorry- I didn’t mean to do that. My hand slipped and I accidently spilt it on your shirt!” Gilbert spoke in mock apology.

Suddenly, he reached forward with his sword and brought the point of it to Arthur’s neck. He panicked, thinking that Gilbert was going to end his life right here and now and spill his blood, the same colour as the wine. But Gilbert ran the sword down the centre of his shirt popping the buttons off.

The shirt opened and he felt cool air on his stomach while the others laughed. Francis reached forward and placed his hand on Arthur’s abdomen and Arthur jolted- surprised and trying to curl away from the unpleasant touch.  
“Damn, Arthur, you nearly have a six pack. Guys feel this shit!” The others reached forward and placed their hands on his chest feeling up and down, Francis’ hands got extremely close to his crotch area and he closed his eyes waiting.

“Arthur we are called the Bad Touch Trio for a reason you know.” Gilbert said with a smile looking at Arthur’s face. He pulled the sword up and started to slice away at the rest of his shirt until it was completely off him. At that moment Francis’ hand went a little further down into his trousers not quite touching him there but not far away. He jolted again and the others laughed all looking at what Francis was doing. 

Although it hurt his pride Arthur let a tear slip out of his eye, which was then followed by another- it was the same, it was going to happen again. He didn’t think it would happen again like this- hadn’t he suffered enough when he was young. He balled his hands into fists behind his back and started to shake his head in no gesture. He wanted them to stop- but they weren’t going to… Last time it hurt so much, so much pain.

Suddenly, the wandering hands stopped moving and Antonio spoke.  
“Guys, look.” He gestured at Arthur’s face and both Gilbert and Francis looked. Arthur was gritting his teeth together in a grimace and had his eyes tightly closed with tears leaking out of them. Arthur knew that they were looking at him and waited for the tormenting comments. 

But he felt soft fingers pull the gag out of his mouth and it fell around his neck. He didn’t know who took the gag out and without opening his eyes he took his opportunity.  
“Please,” he rasped- desperately, “please don’t do this. Anything but this. Rip my teeth out, flog me but please don’t do this. Not again, not again. Don’t be like him, don’t please. Please God don’t. I’ll give you anything but not again- I don’t know what I’ll do if it happens again…” The others froze at his words and when Gilbert glanced down at Arthur’s abdomen, now that his shirt was off they could see clearly. 

Arthur’s nether regions or leading down to them had massive scaring with cuts that had obviously been done with knives and some burns littered from below his bellybutton and into his trousers. He knocked Francis and gestured to the scars and when Francis saw he knocked Antonio and did the same. 

Arthur opened his eyes and Francis reached forward and England flinched expecting a slap but all Francis did was place his hand gently on his cheek.   
“We weren’t going to go all the way, Arthur, we just wanted to scare you a little. Where did you get these scars?” Francis asked, but Arthur didn’t speak not wanted to say who had, and expecting this to be a trap. “Give me your sword, Gil.” Francis said still holding eyes with Arthur. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, a slight fear creeping up him- he couldn’t say who it was. Were they going to torture it out of him? “I’m not going to hurt you; I’m going to cut the ropes.” Francis said noticing Arthur’s panic. He brought the Sword and awkwardly cut the ropes around his knees and ankles which was easier said than done considering his feet and knees were under him from when he’d fallen back.

Once that was done Gilbert, who was standing, reached down and grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him into a standing position. Arthur backed up against the wall knowing that he scars would be hidden by the wall- he always wore a long sleeved shirt for a reason…  
“Arthur I need you to turn around so I can cut the ropes of your hands.” Francis’ voice was calm but Arthur could tell what he was about to say wouldn’t keep him calm.  
“I would like my hands untied, however I can’t do that because if I do that- you’ll see things I don’t want you to see…”  
“Look we can untie you and discuss what we’ll get and you can go, no harm done.”  
“No I can’t- give me the sword and I’ll do it.”  
“We’re not giving you a sword Arthur.” Antonio scoffed, “Gilbert may be stupid but Francis and I aren’t.”  
“Please, if I turn around you’ll find out and I can’t let that happen. I’d rather you kill me that live with the knowledge that you know.” Gilbert sighed,  
“You know that nations can’t be killed with a blade, just fucking turn around already. We’re trying to be kind.” Gilbert snapped at him.  
“No.” Gilbert groaned and reached forward and once again grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and turned him to face both Antoni and Francis.  
“There now cut him loose.”  
“Gil…” Antonio spoke slowly and Gilbert walked around so he could see Arthur’s back. Francis’ mouth had fallen open at the sight and Gilbert couldn’t blame him. All countries had scars but he had never seen anything close to Arthur’s scars. He had scars littering his back, ones from belts, some from knives, some from burns but the scar that stood out the most was 7 words carved into the centre of Arthur’s back.  
‘Slave Arthur Kirkland property of Allister Kirkland.” It had been scratched in with a knife but there were also burns around the scars meaning that the blade had been white hot when it had been done. Gilbert bought his hand to cover his mouth. Francis seemed to snap out of his trance and reached forward with the sword and cut the rope holding Arthur’s two wrists together, and as the rope fell Francis saw little cuts adorning Arthur’s arms. But these scars were different from the ones on his back- these had obviously been self-inflicted.  
“Arthur… When did this happen?”  
Arthur turned, so he was facing them. There were still scars there but a lot less. He held his arms in front of him in a way where they were crossed but his hands held his elbows, a clear picture of self-consciousness and self-loathing.  
“Gilbert a few minutes ago you said that a nation couldn’t be killed with a knife, I know better than most. He tried a lot, experimented. He was delighted when he found out that he couldn’t kill me. Knew he could play with his toy as much as he liked and it wouldn’t break- but the time that it really sunk in that I couldn’t die was when I tried myself. There is a reason I always where long sleeve shirts you know…”  
“Arthur.” Francis stepped forward as he spoke, towards Arthur, “When did this happen?”  
“When I was younger. When I asked you for help!” Arthur shouted, “But all you did was laugh in my face and tell me that whatever problems I had were precisely that- my problems! I couldn’t protect myself from him, I was too young. And you know what I guess you are as freaking bad as him. You were going to do the same thing!”  
“No, we weren’t going to scar you like that…” Antonio said slowly. “Unless you’re saying that your brother raped you…”  
“Oh look it can learn.” Suddenly a cloth was thrown in his face and he saw that it was a shirt- Francis’ shirt. He quickly put it on- it wasn’t long sleeved but it would be better that nothing. “Can I go now please, my people need me.” Arthur spoke as he turned around, walking out of the room on the ship and closing the door behind him. They all nodded solemnly, in a state of shock and anger.

Francis just had one thought in his mind- he was going to kill Allister Kirkland and he was going to make it slow and long and painful.


End file.
